


Magister

by Buttons15



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:45:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/Buttons15
Summary: Amelie didn't escape Tevinter only to fall into the hands of another damn Magister. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done.(An Overwatch AU in the Dragon Age universe.)





	Magister

Amelie dodges, moving swiftly as her lyrium laced hand bursts through the thug’s chest and the man slumps to the ground. Quickly, on reflex, she moves again, drawing and releasing her bow in a split second.

The arrow hits home with a thunk and another target falls. She doesn’t like fighting and she doesn’t like killing, but it is the only thing she knows how to do and she sure as hell needs the money to stay ahead of the people who pursue her.

“I think that’s the last of them,” Angela bends down and pokes through the bodies, picking up a few silvers. The fact that they got to keep the pay _and_ the loot made mercenary work one of the most profitable jobs around, particularly for people with their set of skills.

“Oh hey, will you look at this.” The other smiles, pulling a bag from inside a drawer. “Nice pair of diamonds.” She pauses, tosses one her way. Amelie catches it in the air and spares it a look before pocketing it. “Those could fetch a nice price…maybe we could even take a vacation! What do you say, you, me, a couple of weeks in Orlais…”

She says nothing. She is someone who speaks little, and the idea was hardly a possibility. She is on the _run_ , and the marks on her skin aren’t exactly inconspicuous.

Angela doesn’t seem to mind her silence – she never did. She would just keep on babbling, on and on until Amelie snapped at her to shut up. When that happened, Amelie would always receive an innocent and apologetic smile.

She hates it. Hates it with a passion. Hates _her_ with a passion, and she will put a knife between her ribs as soon as the occasion allows it.

She _will._

“Hey, Ame, what do you want to get for dinner today?”

_I hate you,_ she thinks but doesn’t say. “Whatever.”

“We’re getting paid, so we can probably get some real meat. Nug, maybe…and lentils! You like lentils, right?”

She does. Amelie grits her teeth.

“…finally! I’m so sick of pretending mushrooms are beef – oh. Secret lever.” She pulls it.

There is an intense sound of stone grinding against stone, and an entire new room is revealed to the side, where formerly a disguised wall stood. She rolls her eyes at the ‘hidden’ entrance – she sees devices like those at least once a week.

She draws her bow, ever so careful, and follows Angela into a room with holding cells, all empty save from the last one, where a boy no older than fifteen lies. Whether he is unconscious or dead is something she usually doesn’t care to find out, but her companion the Andrastian Saint was on him in an instant.

She has his head in her aim when he sits up abruptly, fire flickering between his fingers.

A _mage._ Of course.

“It’s okay,” Angela smiles, placing a hand on the kid’s shoulder and reaching into her satchel for a piece of stale bread. The boy hesitates.

“Am not going anywhere with you,” he hisses, eyeing the food wistfully before turning his gaze to Amelie. She still has her bow drawn. Angela turns, gives her a stern look, and she lowers it, albeit bitterly.

She hates herself for it.

“Sure,” Angela nods. “Our job was to get rid of the gang. You’re free to do whatever…though you should eat a little first.”

He snatches the food from her hand and stuffs his face, eating it all with three bites. Then he stands, dusts himself. “I’m gonna leave now.” He puffs his chest, lifts his chin, dares anyone to keep him.

Angela moves to make way.

“Oh, wait!” The blonde calls when he is at the door. He tenses. She pulls something shiny from her pocket, walks over, hands it to the kid.

_Of course. Of course she would._

“Thanks, ma’am, I –” The boy catches her eye. Her disgust must have been evident, because he dry swallows and breaks into a run instead of finishing his sentence.

Angela turns to her and sighs. “He seemed like a nice lad –”

Amelie doesn’t let her finish. She grabs her by the shoulders, shoves her against the wall. “A _fucking mage_!” She slams Angela again for good measure, making her wince. Something tightens in her chest, but she ignores it. “Another one! Another blasted mage you let go, again! You always have to –“

“Amelie –“

“ – you always let them go!”

“What would you have me do?” Her tone is, as always, perfectly even. She makes no movement to free herself, either.

“Kill him!” she suggests, livid. “Or hand him over to the Templars at the very least!” She grabs Angela’s arms, traps them over her head, immobilizing them even though the other shows no signs of resistance.

Maker knew she _could_ put up a fight if she wanted to, but she never does.

“Amelie –”

“What if he turns to blood magic, then? You know the world out there. You know his odds. You _know_ the temptation! Just how many of them will you let loose until the entire world turns into Tevinter –”

“Amelie.”

She pauses to take a shaky breath. It is a mistake. She is suddenly acutely aware of the points where their skins touch, of the ever gentle blue eyes holding her gaze. Her resolve wavers.

“I am a Tevinter blood mage.”

And there it is – the griffon in the room, the thing she tries to ignore every day. Angela was a Magister, the very sort of people who had branded her and stolen her past and her freedom. Amelie hates her.

“They’re not you,” she whispers despite herself.

Amelie hates herself for loving her.

She recoils, as if struck by her own words. Angela makes as if to reach out but stops halfway. It is for the best – Amelie doubts she can bear her touch right then.

“You’re different,” She continues, because she can’t stop, doesn’t want to stop.

She’d seen Angela face down demons that broke even her own mind, and never falter. She’d never seen Angela use her blood magic for anything other than, ironically, healing. Angela had a strict principle that ‘if it cannot be done with my blood then it won’t be done at all’, one that she never broke even when the situation called for it.

They’d been travelling together for over a year. She was different.

_A Tevinter blood mage._

She throws her weapon down in an outburst of frustration. A hand touches her cheek, and her gaze follows a pinkish scar on the other’s arm, one that ran from wrist to elbow.

“You know everyone deserves a chance to be free,” Angela stands her ground.

She grits her teeth, the inner turmoil physically painful. Angela too ran from the Imperium, and on a good day, Amelie could convince herself that this was why they remained together - no one else knew how to better escape the magisters than a former magister herself.

She was not on a good day. The conflicting waves of longing and spite hit her worse than the whips in her past.

“I hate you,” she says, but doesn’t mean it. She thinks, surprisingly, of a meal of nug meat and lentils. Her heart squeezes.

“Do you want me to go?”

_Please, don't._

“Yes.”

Angela takes her hand away and steps back. Amelie changes her mind on the spot, closing the distance between them. Her kiss reflects her inner despair, unsteady, sometimes needing and sometimes aggressive.

Angela’s touch is never anything but soft, and calm, and firm.

She can’t help but feel _safe._

And she hates herself for it.

**Author's Note:**

> "Hi Buttons, the hell is this?"  
> Dragon Age AU with Amelie as Fenris (DA II) and Angela as Dorian (Inquisition), pretty much. 
> 
> For those of you who missed out on ~~the best game in the series~~ Dragon Age II: Amelie is a former magister slave who gets her body modified with lyrium to give her fighting superpowers. Horrible process, painful, wipes off the memories of her past, etc etc.
> 
> For those of you who didn't get to play Inquisition: Angela is a former magister who ditched/got kicked out of tevinter for being gay.
> 
> "Sounds problematic."
> 
> Very much so, and hopefully I captured both Amelie's inner conflict on falling for someone who used to represent everything she hates _and_ Angela's nonthreatening, puppy personality that allows that kind of feeling to happen.
> 
> They work things out. _Eventually._
> 
> "How did they meet/What happens next/What about the rest of the OW cast/Will there be more of this AU?"  
> I PROMISE I'LL TRY TO TALK SOME FRIENDS INTO WRITING IT 
> 
> "Something is weird about this story."  
> I wrote it on the present because I wanted to try out new verb tenses


End file.
